So... My dad just saw the Plan B package and the beer cans in my backseat.
Oh its cool I'm sure he already knows you're a whore and an alcoholic.
Sooo sorry about that. And crying. And comparing my life to a duck
Internet sex stories have completely ruined the word sopping for me.
The really sad thing is that I actually practiced crawling in my room yesterday in preparation for today
I don't think eating half of a pickle out of my mouth counts as getting to know me
Let's be honest, your relationships fail because the man you're looking for is the equivalent of an intellectual blow-up doll.
It takes a special kind of Adderall to make me go to the hardware store, buy paint, and paint tiny polka-dots on all four of my bedroom walls.
Fyi, shaking your genitals at me doesn't count as "trying to have sex".
I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna write gay mortal kombat fanfic. May the gods be praised for whisky
It's one of those "I can't stand you but we're stuck in the same hotel room tonight so let's fuck until one of us passes out" kind of nights.
We fucked while The Odyssey played in the background. Homer would be proud.
She caught me by google maps... Lets just say it wasnt her car in front of the house.
The seven of us sank the first paddle boat, but the second one was much nicer and we stayed afloat. Best night in a while, but we had to walk of shame for a mile.
Why are you rhyming?
Too stoned. That is how my thoughts are collecting.
You know when you're a kid and you play at the pool until you passed out? It was like that except instead of playing it was sex.
Birthday wine tasting got super shambly super quickly. I am covered in cuts/bruises/terrible life decisions.
Randomize
